


Angel Wings

by fourohfourerror



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Wings, after they discover the bunker but before Jack, an exploration into how angel wings work, not really in canon anywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 17:18:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20118736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourohfourerror/pseuds/fourohfourerror
Summary: An exploration into how angel wings work, and how the Winchesters found out.





	Angel Wings

For angels, the world existed in layers. The main portion was like any human saw, the regular world in all of its plain glory. If the angel were to flip an unseen switch in their brain, however, the world lit up in what the Winchesters would likely call ‘Angel Vision.’ Colors turned wacky in the presence of magic and typically unseen things, like angel wings, were then visible. 

An angel’s wings says a lot about them. Adding those two extra limbs adds extra dimensions to the human art known as ‘Body Language.’ The way the wings are held, how cleanly kept they are, whether or not they have any wounds or scars, and the magical energy they give off all speak volumes about the angel’s character. 

Castiel sometimes liked to imagine what the Winchester’s wings would look like, if they had them. Sam’s, he imagined, would have long feathers kept in in superb condition that glowed a sweet sky blue. He would hold them in a relaxed, open way for the majority of the time, comfortable in his body. Dean’s would be a deeper oceanic blue, with lots of scars and patches in his shorter feathers. Cas could almost see the way he would hold his wings rigid in the same way that he kept his mental trauma under lock and key.

Castiel had once kept his wings in order and held in rigid position. Back when he worked full time in Heaven, he did everything he could to be the perfect solider. For centuries, he perfected holding his wings perfectly folded behind him. It was a natural habit.

The way Cas kept his wings changed when he flew to Hell to raise Dean and had some feathers singed in hellfire. The world went into chaos soon after, and he began to loose his grooming regimen. The state of his wings often resembled his vessel’s unkempt hair and crinkled clothing: once formal but now a neglected mess. Cas just didn’t have time to take care of the missing or broken angelic feathers from the constant battles that he followed the Winchesters into. Through all of the discord and strife Castiel still held his wings high in rigid position; though, he seemed to do it more out of tension than need for order.

When things finally started to calm down, Cas finally began to let his wings relax. Instead of holding them into a folded position constantly, he stretched them and let his feathers feel minute breezes caused by movement around him. It was nice, being happy enough to let himself relax.

On one particular day in the bunker, he was letting his wings stretch out and feel the breezes caused by Sam and Dean moving through the kitchen as the trio unpacked groceries. Castiel hummed under his breath and tilted a wing, letting it manipulate the wind from the air conditioning overhead. He was startled out of his relaxation but a sharp yelp from Sam, who put his back to the counter and scanned the room with wide eyes.

“What was that?!” the taller Winchester demanded.

“What was what?” Dean asked, with a slight chuckle highlighting his words. 

Sam moved his hands as he tried to explain why he was so startled. “Something touched me! Which one of you did that?”

When Sam yelped, Cas had felt his wings go rigid. After being accused of messing with Sam, Cas abruptly drew his wings in what was considered defensive angel body language. “I did not do anything!” he said, confusion apparent on his face as he turned to look at the second Winchester.

Dean, unlike Cas, did not look defensive. In fact, the way he was rooted to the spot with wide, searching eyes made him look quite terrified. “I felt it too!” Dean whispered and backed up to the counter. 

Cas felt his own fear rising. He turned around to search for the cause of the Winchesters’ terror, raising his wings in anticipation. 

“It felt like a hand brushing against my arm,” Dean said. “It was cold, like a ghost.”

“Can’t be a ghost,” Sam said. “The bunker is ghost-proof.”

“What was it then?” Dean asked. “What else is invisible and feels like something touching you?”

Something finally clicked in Cas’s mind. The fear drained out of his body, and he began to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Of course, the Winchester’s wouldn’t know enough about angel anatomy to realize what was going on. Castiel has forgotten to give the boys that talk.

“What’s so funny, huh?” Dean snapped.

In all of his time on Earth, Cas hadn’t laughed this hard. “My . . . My wings,” he said. “That was my wings, slipping into the real world.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. He was beginning to visibly relax as he realized that they weren’t in danger of an invisible threat.

Cas finally caught his breath enough to explain what was going on to the others. “Typically, an angel’s wings only really exist on the same plane as, say, Angel Radio or an Angel’s Powers. Humans can’t see them unless the wings are cast in shadow by an angel’s power, the angel is dead and the wings’ shadow is on the ground, or an angel shows their true form. Wings are usually aren’t really solid angel lets them be.”

The Winchesters nodded in understanding, apparently filing the information away into their knowledge of supernatural creatures. “So your wings technically exist constantly, just not in ways that we can experience,” Sam clarified.

“Exactly.” Castiel looked at Dean to see if he was fully accepting the information.

After a pause, Dean said, “Well, just don’t scare us like that again, Buddy.” He almost gave Cas a pat on the back, then redirected and lightly punched his shoulder. Dean immediately returned to the groceries, and Sam reluctantly joined him.

The three men lived in such a wacky world with strange circumstances and constant evil to battle, but at least Castiel could rest assured that the Winchesters were able to take every new thing they leaned and move on with their lives. They may not be perfect lives, but they were surviving with their strange and unbelievable knowledge. Even to an angel, it was impressive.

**Author's Note:**

> This didn’t exactly conclude in a way I’m satisfied with, but this is my first attempt at something like this. Hopefully I’ll improve in the future.


End file.
